


Ghost Stories

by AkinoAme



Category: Kamen Rider OOO
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Nightmares, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-14
Updated: 2016-05-16
Packaged: 2018-05-26 17:23:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6248839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AkinoAme/pseuds/AkinoAme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chiyoko says there are ghosts in the attic. Eiji, Hina, and Ankh aren't sure about that, but there's certainly something haunting them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

                There are ghosts in the attic, Chiyoko says.

                "You're kidding," Hina insists as they help Eiji move in.

                But she shakes her head. "The building was really run-down when I first bought it. It took a lot of renovation. But one night, when I was cleaning everything out, I felt this strange gust of wind, even though none of the doors or windows were open. And I swear I saw glowing red eyes from the shadows."

                Hina's pretty sure that she's kidding, but the specifics are a little unsettling. It's not like she believes in ghosts—not since she was a little girl, anyway—but she turns toward Eiji and asks, "Are you still sure you want to stay here?" It's supposed to be the perfect arrangement, but she doesn't want him to end up scared off.

                But he smiles and nods. "Ghosts aren't the scariest thing I've seen. "

                She smiles back, just as Chiyoko says, "That's right, you used to travel a lot! You must have so many stories—you'll have to tell us sometime!"

                And that's when something weird happens. Eiji's smile fades just slightly, and something changes in his eyes—a hint of sadness, maybe?

                "Maybe another time," he insists.

                "Right, you must be tired!" Chiyoko remembers. "Get some rest for now, and we'll talk more during your shift, okay?"

                Eiji grins and promises, "Okay," but Hina has a feeling that he's not going to tell them anything. She can't say whether or not there are ghosts in the attic, but there's definitely something haunting Eiji.         

 

~~~

 

                Eiji's only had a few weeks to settle in when Hina suddenly runs into the room. Then she stops, looks at Ankh in his nest, and looks toward Eiji with wide eyes.

                "You're still here," she says.

                He nods in confusion, glancing over at Ankh—it would be like him to say something to upset her, but Ankh clearly doesn't know what's going on and definitely doesn't care.

                "But Chiyoko said..." Hina starts.

                That's when it makes sense, and Eiji leads her out of the room and closes the door behind him, taking care to stay out of sight of the window.

                "Sorry," he admits. "I should have told you first." Now that the shock is fading, there's worry all over her face, so he's careful when he explains, "I asked Chiyoko, when I first started, that if anyone came in and asked for me, to tell them I left. If it's the Kougami Foundation, that's fine. Mr. Kougami only sends the same two people every time. But if it's anybody else..."

                "You don't want them to know you're here?" she asks, and he nods. "Why?"

                She knows part of his past. He trusts her with that. But he's not sure he's ready to tell the rest—his parents, the way they bought him out of there, the way his story fueled his family's careers, the ways they buried his mistakes and built him up into a hero he definitely didn't feel like.

                "It's probably my parents," he admits finally, "and I don't talk to them anymore."

                She's curious, and he can see it. But he can't. Not with the memories of war and _her_ face and the fire and the sound of explosions just waiting for him to lower his guard, to let one little slip so they can rage inside his mind the way they did the days of the bombs.

                She wants an explanation, and he takes a few shaky breaths, trying, but then Ankh grabs him from behind.

                "Yummy."

                It's the rescue he needs, but his mother or father might still be downstairs, looking for him. And if he can't face Hina, he definitely can't face them.

                But she gives him a comforting smile and says, "I'll make sure they're gone, okay?"

                He nods in gratitude before she heads downstairs. Ankh looks at him in an impossible mix of curiosity and disinterest, but he's not looking for an explanation. That makes it easier, and the past can stay in the back of his mind where it belongs.

 

~~~

 

                It happens like clockwork. Three a.m., he wakes and sits up suddenly, sweating and panting from...something. Ankh had asked him once, and Eiji had only evasively said it was a bad dream before he washed the cold sweat off his face and went back to bed.

                It's not clockwork this time.

                Eiji doesn't wake, too exhausted from his last combo. So Ankh is stuck listening to his moans and gasps as he tries his damndest to wake up but can't.

                Shut up,  he silently orders. I don't want to hear this.

                I don't want to know, it becomes when the moans give way to sobs.

                They're muffled and choked, but there's still something deep in them that Ankh can't pretend is from the pain in Eiji's body. They're from a pain in his mind, in his heart, that Ankh doesn't want to acknowledge.

                I don't want to know.

                The whole thing takes about ten minutes—much longer than the simple waking. In the morning, Eiji doesn't remember a thing.

                Ankh will never forget.

 

~~~

 

                He's beginning to develop rituals.

                Hina bandages his wounds and helps place pain compresses on his back and shoulders whenever necessary. And if he hasn't used a combo, he goes through his shift at the restaurant. Then cleanup, close down, and lock up.

                It's with a long sigh that he hauls himself upstairs and into his room. Ankh, of course, is eating his tenth ice pop of the night and looking at his phone while completely ignoring him. So Eiji starts taking off his shirt and removing the patches from his back.

                "I'm taking a bath," he says.

                "Water's already full," Ankh answers automatically, never looking up.

                Eiji would be tempted to think that Ankh was doing him a favor, making sure that the bath was always ready. But then, with the attic getting cool at night and with all of those ice pops, it's far more likely that Ankh's just using it to keep himself warm. They've had enough arguments about the room's temperature anyway.

                He closes the window before turning away. "It wouldn't be so cold in here if you just used the door."

                Ankh scowls but doesn't even bother. Eiji just trudges his way to the bathroom, finishes taking off his clothes, and washes off before sinking into the hot water. At once, his whole body relaxes, and he leans back against the wall and closes his eyes.

                It's about the only way he can keep the nightmares at bay—give his body a chance to forget the pain it went through and give his mind a chance to lower its guard. It's the only time he lets himself reveal the true exhaustion he's been living with. Most of the time, he's happy, but there's still that vague sense of emptiness—like a cup with a tiny hole in it, and everything he feels is just dripping out. Now, he's able to just let it all out and feel absolutely nothing. He doesn't feel good or bad—he simply is.

                The next thing he knows, he feels a rough hand against his face, and he jumps, reaching desperately for whatever's going to push him down into the water, drown him...

                Ankh is pissed that there's water all over him, and he glares as he pushes Eiji's head back again.

                It takes Eiji a moment to breathe normally before he can mumble, "Sorry."

                Ankh snorts and lets go. "I wouldn't bother waking you up if it wouldn't be such a problem for me if you drowned."

                His heart rate has settled back down again, so he nods. But that's it for his strength, and he has to let Ankh half-lift him up so he can get out.

                He's barely standing, but he notices Ankh just _looking_ at him, and it takes him forever to figure out why.

                He's worried.

                The realization is uncomfortable. On one hand, the fact that Ankh really does care more than he lets on. But on the other, the fact that Eiji's the reason why.

                "I'm okay," Eiji insists, slowly standing up on his own.

                That strange expression is still on Ankh's face as he hands him a towel, then walks away. Eiji doesn't know what to say, and then...

                "Next time, keep a candroid with you. That way, I don't have to get soaked waking you up."

                And just like that, it's back to normal. Eiji smiles and changes before going to bed.

                His sleep is peaceful, and there are no dreams.

 

~~~

 

                Eiji's said that he no longer talks to his parents. This means that he's spending New Year's all alone at Cous Coussier.

                "I'll be fine," he insists as Chiyoko finishes preparations for her trip. "Besides, someone's got to keep an eye on Ankh."

                There is a glare from over in the corner, but the comment puts Chiyoko's mind at ease, and she answers, "You're right. This is his first New Year's in Japan, right? You'll have to show him around!"

                Ankh makes a dismissive sound and grumbles, "And just why would I want to do that?"

                "It'll be fun!" she insists, going over to try to talk him into the very concept of "fun."

                While Chiyoko tries to get Ankh to come around, Hina quietly asks Eiji, "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

                He nods. "It might be easier, honestly, in case there's another Yummy, if Chiyoko's not here."

                She nods back; she hadn't thought of that. "But what about your family? They're not going to be looking for you, are they?"

                Eiji looks over his shoulder, but Chiyoko is still futilely trying to sell Ankh on the idea of sightseeing. Still, he moves Hina over to another corner and whispers, "I sent them a postcard a few days ago. I asked Mr. Kougami to have it mailed out from another city. That way, they know I'm okay, but they can't find me."

                There are ghosts in his expression as he explains this, and Hina wants to ask him why all the secrecy, but she can't. Not when it seems to important to him. So instead, she asks, "What about your grandpa?"

                Now, a look of surprise before fading into sadly sweet nostalgia as he replies, "Grandpa died when I started high school. Otherwise, I'd have gone to visit him, Ankh or no."

                She suddenly feels the urge to hug him, but she settles for holding his hand, and he smiles back.

                "You're both going to be okay?" Chiyoko double-checks as she comes over to hand Eiji the keys.

                Eiji's smile is all optimism now, and he promises, "We'll figure out something to do, don't worry. Everything's going to be fine, so have fun on your trip."

                "Okay," she answers finally. "I'll be back soon, and we'll set up everything for Egypt."

                "Sounds like fun," he says with a grin. "I can't wait!"

                He sees both her and Hina out so he can lock up, and although Chiyoko chatters excitedly about her trip and that Eiji really does need to go somewhere, don't you think, Hina can't help but think of him stuck there for two weeks with no one but Ankh for company. She knows he can survive the solitude, if he's done it before, but he shouldn't have to. There has to be something she can do for him.

                There's still two balls of extremely soft red yarn and her knitting needles at home, but they can wait until Ankh's present comes in. Eiji won't admit it, but he needs something now.

                He's completely surprised when she returns an hour later with a DVD and a grocery bag.

                "Hina?" he asks.

                "I figured you guys could use a movie night," she answers with a smile. "There's popcorn, some sodas, ice pops..."

                The very words summon Ankh, and he reaches into her bag without invitation to grab a strawberry pop. While she is a little annoyed, she can't help but feel better when Eiji starts to laugh.

                "I guess that answers that," he says. "Come on in."

                She follows him inside and explains, "I didn't want you to feel like you had to be alone, just because you had nowhere to go."

                She expects the usual platitudes. Instead, there's something disarmingly grateful in the way he smiles at her and nods, answering, "Thank you," before they spend nearly thirty minutes trying to figure out how to hook up a DVD player to the TV in the restaurant.

                The movie is dumb, fun, and everything they need. Because none of them have family to be with that holiday, it's important that they have someone to be with. Maybe it's not enough to make them family, but the way Eiji laughs as he watches the movie, the way he seems so much more relaxed around Hina and Ankh...maybe, she realizes, it's enough for him.

 

~~~

 

                Eiji's excuse when he comes home limping after disappearing for a whole day is "I fell into the river and cut my leg on some rocks. Yasu helped take care of me."

                Chiyoko wastes no time dragging him to the hospital to get it properly treated.

                Ankh is too angry to care, and too upset by his failure to revive. He's fully prepared to tear into Eiji when he limps in a couple of hours later, Hina helping him the whole way.

                But Hina helps Eiji over to his bed before going to the pitcher of water Chiyoko always leaves for them. While she pours a glass, Eiji removes a pill bottle from a paper bag he's been clutching and struggles to open it.

                He realizes then that Ankh is staring, and he quietly admits, "Penicillin. The river water was really bad for my wound—it's infected. I'm supposed to take this for a few days."

                "Here," Hina insists, trading the water for the pills. She gets it open easily and passes over the dose, warning, "I'm going to stay and watch you, just in case you have an allergy you don't know about."

                "Right," Eiji answers, trying to keep his tone light even while exhaustion is overwhelming him. It occurs to Ankh that he was soaked in the cold and had to spend the whole night like that, and the slightest twinge of guilt pricks at him. He has to remind himself that Eiji betrayed him, he kept his Core from him, he still refuses to just listen and do what he's told like a good little tool and collect the damn Medals.

                Once he's mustered up the venom, he spits, "This wouldn't have happened if you'd just given me my Core in the first place."

                "Ankh," Hina warns, giving him a sharp look.

                But Eiji nods and admits, "You're probably right."

                Eiji has a tendency to give in when he's too tired to fight. And he certainly looks tired, from the battle, from the injury, from everything.

                But it doesn't mean he's giving up. He looks back at Ankh with fire in his eyes and insists, "But I only did that because I didn't want you to abandon the Detective as soon as you got it back."

                It's so damn direct and accusatory that Ankh can almost forget the pain and fear from his wing partially manifesting, then disappearing, leaving him with this frail body as a surrogate. Almost, since he can't help but spit back, "Well, it looks like I still need this body, so I guess you got what you wanted."

                "That's not what I wanted at all!" And Eiji's angry enough now that he tries to stand, forgets that he's hurt, and practically collapses on Hina.

                Ankh doesn't waste his pity on him. He leaps down from his nest and pushes Hina aside so he can grab Eiji by his shirt, pulling him close enough that he can smell the foul water that soaked into him. Eiji can't put weight on his injured leg, so he's hanging in Ankh's grip. It's a reminder—Ankh can crush him whenever he wants. The only reason he hasn't is because Eiji is still useful to him.

                "It hurts," he points out. "If I kick you..." And he does, and Eiji shouts in pain, and Hina pulls him away so quickly that they all nearly fall over. But it does nothing to temper Ankh's fury, and he moves closer, even with Hina putting herself between them.

                "Your leg's still there, though," he says, and the glare in Eiji's eyes is starting to fade as he starts to understand what Ankh means. "It'll heal, and you'll still be in one piece. My body is broken down into five more pieces, and I have no idea where they are."

                Eiji can't even look at him, and Ankh takes some comfort in the shame he's inspired.

                "Enough," Hina argues, and Ankh's nearly surprised at the force in her voice—nearly, if only because he remembers how long she argued with him last night. "You _both_ need to draw some boundaries."

                Ankh wants to argue, but deep down, he knows she's right. And Eiji's already getting to his feet, despite how badly he's leaning on everything.

                "I'll help you get your Medals back," he says. "But you have to promise me that you're not going to abandon the Detective—not until he's able to survive without you."

                Always with the orders—it grates on Ankh's nerves, and he demands, "And why should I agree to that?"

                "Because you need him," Hina insists, before either of them can start posturing. "Just as much as he needs you."

                Ankh gives Eiji a second look, and he knows that both statements are true, no matter how much the both of them want to deny it. Ankh has enough self-preservation skills to know that it's much safer for him to keep Eiji around. And Eiji...

                Eiji doesn't have them. He considers everyone else more important than himself. It's enough to trust in, even if it's maddening.

                They don't say anything for a long time. The deal is done.

                "Go wash up," is the only thing Ankh can say at last. "You smell like rotting fish."

                A grin that has no real reason to be there spreads across Eiji's face. It means he believes they'll be all right. As if that means anything in the first place.

                He'll fall asleep in the bath again, but Ankh can ignore that for now. It'll have to be one of their boundaries, he supposes—he doesn't bother Eiji about the nightmares and weird sleeping patterns, and Eiji won't tell him anything. In retrospect, it benefits Eiji both ways, but it's something off Ankh's mind at least.

                He knows there's something just as wrong with Eiji as there is with him—that maybe, he understands the concept of never being in one piece better than he wants to let on.

                But if he doesn't bring that up, then Eiji won't bring up his issues. And that's a compromise he can live with.

 

~~~

 

                Date's graduated him to ketoprofen patches now. They're more effective, especially as far as combos go.

                But the Greeed are getting stronger, so he's using combos more and more frequently, and so the nights when he actually does have the time and energy to relax in the bath are few and far-between.

                But the nightmares have eased somewhat, and Eiji's grateful for that. It gives him a chance to focus on the new things on his mind—the fact that someone has Ankh's missing Medals and is using them to create Yummies, for one.

                He lies in bed late one night after another strenuous battle. The patches are on his back, and he's starting to feel himself drift off to sleep.

                "All that trouble, and only this many Medals," Ankh complains, ignoring the way Eiji was just starting to fall asleep. "Stop hanging out so much with that Birth guy. You're giving him a chance to get to the Medals before us."

                "It's not like I can get out of here fast enough without Goto noticing," he mumbles back. "As soon as he knows, he lets Date know. And that's if Date hasn't picked it up first."

                Logic is about the only thing that gets Ankh to stop, scowl, and go back to checking his tablet. It means if Eiji wants to fall asleep right there, he can.

                He doesn't, though. There's something on his mind, from his very first use of TaJaDor to his most recent one, earlier that afternoon, just before they had to start the dinner shift—a newfound serenity that lights and warms him every time he uses the combo, leaving him feeling far more peaceful than he's been in months.

                "Hey, Ankh?" He doesn't hear an answer, so he ignores the ache in his back and leans up. Ankh isn't asleep—just ignoring him again, so he asks, "What does it feel like, being complete?"

                The directness of the question startles Ankh, and though he asks, "Huh?" in as blasé a tone he can manage, there is a hawkish gleam of suspicion in his eyes.

                "When you had all nine Medals," Eiji insists. "What was it like?"

                Ankh huffs in response, though, and replies, "It's nothing that a _human_ like you would understand."

                Eiji doesn't take the bait. He knows Ankh is just deflecting by trying to make him angry or hurt. This is the moment to hit again, but he has to be careful. Anything too strong will just aggravate Ankh enough to the point of yelling, and then he'll never hear it.

                So he stays in exactly that position, waiting, watching silently even while his shoulders scream in protest. Ankh finally looks back at him and sighs.

                "You're not going to let this go, are you?"

                Eiji's only response is a grin. Ankh groans and turns toward him.

                "It's not something I can explain to you. You wouldn't understand it."

                He nods. "You said that. That I can't understand what it's like to be incomplete."

                And yet, Eiji doesn't think he feels complete either—like some significant part of him was lost between the war and now. It's a sense he can ignore most of the time, but that feeling he gets when he transforms into TaJaDor is the only thing that makes it disappear entirely...which only seems to make it all the more obvious when it returns.

                Ankh is looking at him like he's reading his mind, and Eiji self-consciously dodges his gaze, laying back down. It's probably exactly the wrong thing to do, because his body and mind desperately want to go to sleep now, but he can hear Ankh answering, "You flew."

                "Yeah," he says hesitantly. "But what does that have to do..."

                "What did it feel like?"

                Eiji can't make himself look over at Ankh. He tries to hide the longing in his voice, but Eiji knows it's there, and it's something worse than that missing feeling in his heart.

                "Like nothing I ever felt before," he replies. The thrill and fear of falling, in reverse; he rose into the air with the sense that he could keep doing so forever. Nothing to stop him, not like there was with falling. As soon as the ground came, everything would stop in a horrible burst of pain. But there was a strange, peaceful unknown in soaring straight up eternally—what would he find, and could he survive it?

                The word "beautiful" comes to mind, and all at once, he realizes Ankh's true form must be the most beautiful one of all of the Greeed. Multicolored wings spreading out into freedom.

                "Take that feeling," Ankh says, and there is venom that shouldn't be there but must. "Have it be all you've ever known. And then have that taken away, like someone cut your wings off, and you're stuck on the ground, forced to watch someone else fly, on your wings. Because they were selfish enough to take them away."

                Eiji doesn't need the flashback that comes to squeeze his heart like a vice.

                "I'm sorry," he admits finally. "I should have told you about your Medal, given it back."

                He can feel Ankh's eyes on him, looking in surprise before he answers, "I wasn't talking about you. There was an OOO before you, remember?"

                Eiji nods, but it comes as no comfort. If anything, it's worse. Unbidden as always, the image of _her_ amidst the explosions returns, but if he had to live through it twice?

                The darkness is settling in, and he is falling into it slowly, the memory slipping away to hide in the deeper reaches of his mind, to strike again later while he dreams.

                "There's one difference," he hears, and Ankh's voice is barely loud enough to reach him. "You were the only one who was actually sorry about it."

                It's enough, though, and somewhere in the haze of falling, Eiji feels himself again soaring, seeking that peace he only feels before flight.

 

~~~

 

                The purple Medals change everything. Eiji tries to act like everything's normal, but even he can't ignore the way they beat in his heart, changing him. It's getting so that Ankh can almost sense him now, like a Greeed, and the fact that he's reasonably sure Eiji's sensing Yummies and Greeed too scares him in a way that he can't put into words.

                But not nearly as much as Eiji's new nighttime routine.

                The first time he sleepwalks, Ankh thinks that he's lost control. He reacts in the only way he knows how and throws him up against the wall, pinning him by the throat.

                It's when Eiji suddenly stares at him that Ankh realizes his eyes are their normal color. But even though he's awake and gets back into bed without incident, he doesn't remember any of it the next morning.

                It's happened a few more times since then, and each time, Ankh watches for the telltale violet flash in Eiji's eyes. His body's heart pounds every time, even when he sees Eiji just wandering around harmlessly, making his through the attic and restaurant before finally falling asleep wherever. But it won't be harmless forever, and that's why Ankh's putting a stop to it tonight.

                Eiji's been asleep for a few hours now, and it always happens just when he goes completely still. Ankh stands over him, his hand manifested, ready. The belt is downstairs—he saw to it himself, to avoid any chance that the Medals might react and transform him.

                His hand goes to Eiji's neck. He doesn't react, and if Ankh is quick, he won't.

                If Eiji dies, the purple Medals won't be a problem anymore. It means that Ankh won't have him as his trump card against his imposter and the other Greeed, but maybe just one of those Medals will give him enough power to scare them off. He's not stupid like Eiji—he knows his limits and can surely control at least one.

                He starts to tighten his grip.

                If he's completely honest with himself, Eiji would prefer it this way. Better to die than lose control and hurt the people he cares about. He's said so himself, right? That the failure to save someone would make him wish he were dead? He's done enough. Don't let him do any more damage. Kill him, and it'll be over.

                Ankh doesn't really need him anyway.

                Eiji's breathing is starting to cut off, but his eyes are still closed. Ankh has to hurry—he can sense the Medals beginning to respond, beginning to realize something's wrong. If they do, then nothing will stop Eiji.

                But before he realizes it, his hand has retreated back into his borrowed body, and flesh and blood ease up on Eiji's throat. He takes a deeper breath, and it's enough this time to trigger the movements—not walking, not crying, not waking, but fighting. Fists and nails lash out with unfocused fury as he tries to defend himself from his nighttime attacker. Ankh doesn't know why, but he's relieved. Eiji is still Eiji, but he's fighting Ankh, hitting him and scratching with a determination he's never shown before.

                When Eiji wakes up in the morning, he has bruises along his neck and he doesn't know why. But idiot he is, he's more worried about the bruises and cuts on Ankh's arms. Ankh makes him buy double the ice pops for the trouble, without explaining why.

                It should have been easy, but it's not, and Ankh isn't going to waste time trying to figure it out. He'll just have to figure out something different and keep a closer eye on Eiji to make sure he keeps those damn things under control. And if making sure he's sleeping through the night will make a difference, then that's just what he'll have to do.

                It's not like he needs him.

 

~~~

 

                They've got an unconscious Eiji loaded into the back of the truck. The whole trip to Leisureland became uncomfortable fast, but PuToTyra is a good excuse to head home.

                Kitamura is waiting right outside the car as soon as Hina's done checking on Eiji. She stops immediately, and he can't even make eye contact with her, awkwardly glancing Eiji's way. But he's still fast asleep, which means there's nobody to stop Ankh from angrily pushing past Kitamura and climbing into the truck, slamming the door in his face.

                Then, and only then, does Hina let go of the breath she's been holding.

                Ankh is still scowling, rubbing at his bandaged hand. It's a good distraction, and she asks, "Are you okay?"

                But he spits back, "I'll be better once we put as much distance as possible between that guy and Eiji."

                So much for a distraction, and she quietly nods. Ankh, however, doesn't bother to read her discomfort and argues, "Don't tell me you buy that line of bullshit Eiji gave you about him helping kidnap you as a prank?" When she shakes her head, he asks, "Then why did you just go along with it?"

                "Because it was important to Eiji that I didn't confront Kitamura right there," she answers. Ankh stares at her in disbelief, but she insists, "That's the only reason he'd lie to me—to try to protect me."

                She knows that from the way they met. Eiji's a good man, but his judgment isn't always the best. He does way too much to try to protect others, even when they don't need to be protected. And between the ghosts of his past and the purple Medals, he's only gotten worse.

                Ankh is fuming over it, trying to clench his fist, but his injured hand hurts too much. Finally, Hina argues, "I'm mad at him too," and he gives her a look of surprise.

                It's more than she expected herself to say, and she takes a breath to steel herself before admitting, "Eiji could have put us all in danger today. Kitamura was the one who kidnapped me, not the Yummy. But Eiji tried to pretend that wasn't what happened. Because of that, you were attacked too."

                Something softens in Ankh's gaze, and he looks away uncomfortably, rubbing at his wound. "Eiji's a damn idiot," he mutters under his breath.

                There's more to it than that, she thinks, and she asks, "Are you jealous? That Eiji took Kitamura's side instead of yours?"

                He scowls, and that only confirms her suspicions. It's not fair, when she actually admits it to herself. Every time it comes down to her and Ankh, Eiji always sides with her too. Sure, he'll stand up for Ankh, but it's always in front of anyone but Ankh himself.

                But she doesn't know how to say it, and she can only reply, "We should tell him, when he wakes up. That he was wrong."

                Ankh snorts dismissively. "And he'll only start blaming himself and get more reckless than ever. That's never going to change."

                She looks toward Eiji and knows it's true. Nothing ever changes. He'll continue to risk himself to protect them, and they'll break their own hearts by protecting him from the truth. Why is it so hard for them to be honest? What words, what bonds, are so dangerous that they can never speak them?

                He flinches suddenly in pain, then opens his eyes. He starts to try to get up, but the sensation of the truck moving suddenly throws off his balance, and he falls right back down.

                "Eiji," she gasps, and Ankh turns around to look at him.

                "Hino, how you doing back there?" Date asks from the driver's seat.

                Eiji doesn't seem to hear either of them. His gaze suddenly focuses on Ankh, and it's like no one else matters.

                "You stopped me," he remembers. "Thank you."

                And maybe this time, he's finally taken Ankh's side. Hina smiles softly to herself and turns back around, leaving them to talk around the many words that they can never say.

 

~~~

 

                It's still on Eiji's mind. The Yummy approaching, targeting him specifically, no one able to save him. Its hand against his face, and something awakening in his mind and heart, and him closing his eyes and going completely still as it's ripped out of him, and the shadow he felt it cast against him.

                Ankh hasn't told him what he saw, but that nebulous dream is enough to get the purple Medals under control, and maybe that's enough for Eiji.

                They've returned from visiting Hina in the hospital, and for a long time, neither of them tries to talk to the other. There's too much. And maybe Eiji shouldn't have asked Hina right then and there what to do about Ankh, but he had to make him understand that the Detective isn't just a body he's using—he has someone who loves him and is worried about him, and one day, Ankh's going to have to give him back.

                But not today. Not yet. And Eiji can't help but feel relieved for that.

                "Hey, Ankh?" he finally asks as he towels off his hair. It's been a good day—good enough that he managed to fit in that bath and didn't fall asleep in the water this time. He's gotten control over the Medals, they defeated the Greeed, and Hina woke up. It's not like he can let this whole thing with Ankh keep him down.

                "What?" Ankh asks, tense.

                Eiji's not interested in following the line of conversation that Ankh fears—today isn't about that question or Hina's answer.

                "Do you think it's possible for a dream to come back?"

                Ankh is still weirdly cautious, looking at him like he's seeing him for the first time. Eiji pulls on his pajamas and clarifies, "I mean Hina—she should be okay now, right?"

                Only now does he relax slightly, admitting, "She woke up. But I don't know anything about these Yummies. There's never been anything like them before. They shouldn't exist."

                Eiji nods slowly and lies down. It takes a moment, but he finally says, "My dream came back. Even though I thought it was gone. Do you think that, maybe, Hina's might come back too?"

                Ankh doesn't answer, and maybe it's because it's too close to those things they refuse to talk about. But quietly, Eiji insists, "If we help her, do what little we can, maybe it'll help?"

                "Yeah," Ankh answers finally. "It should help."

                Eiji smiles and closes his eyes. Though his dream still feels out of reach, there is something other than little girl ghosts and nightmares to greet him as he sleeps. People he cares about, smiling faces, and dreams worth protecting, even if they aren't his own.


	2. Chapter 2

                Birthdays are nothing new to Ankh. It's not like he's never experienced them—after all, it seems like every other week, Chiyoko's holding some kind of special party for select customers, and there's that damn Kougami and his cakes every day.

                And it's not like they didn't exist eight-hundred years ago. The King celebrated his too. The King—his King, his liege, that bastard-in-chief—would hold a great banquet every year on his birthday, and his alchemists would present him with a new set of Core Medals. And the people would fear that day each year because it meant a new Greeed would be born and run rampant in the villages.

                Sharing a birthday is nothing new. Ankh shares the day of his creation with the man who removed his final Core and created him, who then stabbed him in the back and tried to destroy him.

                This is honestly a step up.

                And actually, if it hadn't been for everything lately, Ankh might be tempted to put up with it. After all, it certainly rubs it in to Eiji and Hina that he's staying and there's nothing they can do about it. What better day to do that than the day Hina's supposed to be celebrating her family, and prove to her that he calls the shots, not her, not Eiji. If he wants to stay, he _stays._

                But now, everything's ruined. The body he's using isn't staying nice and comatose anymore, and it's making things damn near impossible. As if that dream wasn't bad enough...

                As if the dream of betrayal wasn't bad enough, wasn't bad enough with Eiji admitting he _would_ betray Ankh if Hina asked him to, he might have dreamed that too. Might have, when they all passed out after that birthday party, and his panic might have been enough to wake Hina and Eiji up. Neither of them said anything, at least, not until Eiji realized how to lure out the Yummy, so it was less of an embarrassment than it had to be. He doesn't need them worrying about him. Eiji's a pain enough, what with being a professional worrier. Hina...

                He should have been able to do it. It was so damn easy. His hand was wrapped around her throat, and she wasn't even fighting back. Eiji didn't even step in.

                Hina worries about him when she shouldn't, cares when she shouldn't. Doesn't she know that he's a Greeed? That all he exists for is to take everything away from them and keep it for himself? That the moment they are useless to him, he will throw them away without hesitation? That he doesn't care about them? Why don't they stop him?

                Because they knew he couldn't do it. Because they don't take him seriously as a threat anymore. Because he's a completely powerless Greeed getting bossed around by a stupidly strong woman and an idiot who's slowly turning into some kind of baby Greeed. Because they think that when he tries to kill them, it's just him throwing a tantrum and if they talk to him, he'll calm down and play nice.

                And even beyond knowing that it's true, the worst part is that he's starting to think it's okay. That maybe, he kind of likes it. Maybe not enough to celebrate that stupid party, but just enough to barely tolerate it.

                Enough to actually kind of like the idea that she gave him a gift, even though she admitted she'd originally gotten it for that body.

                But she wanted him to have it.

                She's the only one who's ever given him a gift. The first, the case, because he saved her life and she has to pay him back. But this? This is the first time anyone has ever given him something for no reason. Not because they owe him, not because they expect him to owe them. But simply because...simply because they're glad that he exists, and that's something they want him to know.

                Shame, then, that it's the last thing he'll ever get. That the last thing he's going to feel is her hand against his human one, the wrong one, but the only one she can reach as she desperately tries to save him.

                This time, he gives her something, but it's more selfish than that party or gift because it's all for him, the faint hope that they can use it to help bring him back. He can't give over _his_ Core, since his imposter will notice the deception immediately, but if it's just one, then maybe it's enough. Hopefully enough.

                Hope's never done him much good before, but if it's Hina, maybe it'll work out. She hasn't given up on it, hasn't given up on him, and maybe it'll be enough to get him through.

                It wouldn't be the first lie he's told himself.

 

~~~

 

                He needed her. She could see it in his eyes that he needed her, feel it as he slipped the Medal into her hand. He needed her, and she let him down.

                She can't quite say that he slipped through her fingers. She never lost hold. But he slipped away all the same, and the hand she was left holding wasn't Ankh's any longer.

                She wants something to hold onto, but Eiji's taken the Medal right now, since he needs it to sense Ankh and try to bring him back. And she can't blame him for that, but as far as her own comfort goes, she wishes she still had it to hold onto.

                "Hina? Are you okay?"

                She takes a breath and tries not to let Big Brother see. It's not the Medal she wants back; it's Ankh. But she has her brother, and she should be satisfied. And it's not that she's not glad to have him back—she wouldn't trade him for anything in the world.

                But she'd give almost anything else to have Ankh back too, and she can't understand why.

                Big Brother seems to be careful about all of his movements as he steps into the room, and she can see him fighting muscle memory, trying expressions and motions that feel so foreign on him now.

                He's trying to make it easier on her. Trying to make it clear that he's not Ankh, trying to make the transition easier than it should be. And maybe a lot of it is for himself, trying to reclaim his body and make it behave as naturally as it used to, but when he hesitates because he's not sure how she'll handle the difference between them, she's grateful.

                "It's strange," he says, and there's a soft smile on his face that would never be seen on Ankh's. "I feel like I should be trying to catch up with you, but I've been there the whole time, even if I wasn't exactly me."

                She nods, fighting back tears. She's cried enough—he doesn't need her to start again now, now when they both should be happy. But when she confesses, "I missed you," her voice still wavers and cracks.

                Big Brother comes over and puts an arm around her, and for a moment, she can let go, at least of herself. This is what she's needed and wanted all of this time. She has to try to let go.

                "I missed you too," he admits. "This must have been so hard for you."

                She feels the tears stinging as her breath starts to catch, and for the first time, she just wants him to go away—no, not quite. Just to stop. Because if she starts now, she's not going to stop, and she can't afford to fall apart, not even now. Shift focus, somehow. There has to be something she can think about without crying.

                The subject comes to mind immediately, and she says, "I hope Eiji understands how much we both appreciate everything."

                Big Brother nods, though he admits, "I hope he's okay. He seemed really uncomfortable, meeting me."

                The worst part is that Hina knows he's right and Eiji was, but she shakes her head and insists, "It's just new for him. He really doesn't know you yet. And he..."

                "He misses Ankh," Big Brother answers. "You do too."

                She lowers her head in shame, cheeks burning along with her eyes. Of course Big Brother would know. He'd been there for so long, saw and experienced everything between them. There's no way either of them could keep a secret from him. He knows them too well.

                "Hina, I'm not mad," he promises. "After everything you all went through..."

                "It's not even like he's my friend," she admits. "But he..."

                "He's family," Big Brother answers with a smile. "I know how you feel. Maybe, somehow, I feel the same way." She looks at him in surprise, and he nods. "Even though he basically kept me as a prisoner in my own body, I guess I kind of got used to it after a while. I could pick up on what he was feeling, so I guess I can understand him a little bit."

                She shakes her head in disbelief. This is wrong, isn't it? After all Big Brother's gone through, he wants Ankh back? He wants him to come back, no matter how much pain he's had to put up with?

                It's just like her own conflict. She should be perfectly happy with what she has, and while she is happy, it's certainly not perfect. No, instead of being satisfied, she only wants more. Is this what it's like for Ankh? And is the unbearable absence what it's like for Eiji?

                She needs them, she realizes. She needs them like she's needed her brother all this time. And isn't that just awful? She should be able to stand up on her own. They definitely don't need her and the ghosts of doubt inside her to cling to them.

                So how can she help them when she can't even help herself?

                She doesn't cry when her brother hugs her. She keeps it in, a storm in a bottle. Because Ankh needs Eiji to rescue him and Eiji still needs her to patch him up afterwards, and how can she be so selfish right now? This isn't about what she wants or needs. Even though it probably is.

 

~~~

 

                She is holding him together.

                In the haze of rage, of pain, and of purple, she is holding his hand and holding him together, just like she had the first time.

                The first time, she'd bravely run in, when he'd shown no mercy to Date, when Goto's voice couldn't reach him, when Ankh...

                When Ankh...

                He hates the way it feels to lose control, like all of his anger and grief, everything he's tried to leave in the past, is bursting forth and lashing out. It's screaming from the top of his lungs, and he can't stop because it never stops. He hates it because some part of him likes it, letting everything out and hurting everyone who's ever hurt him, and he can't stop because some part of him doesn't want to stop.

                When Ankh was too smart to make himself a target, Hina ran in and put herself in the path of his axe. And he stopped.

                He couldn't stop. It should have been enough to break the imposter's wings and throw him to the ground, but the Medals erupted with pain and power and he had to scream because it was easier than crying. Had to make him _hurt_ to teach him what it feels like to really be incomplete.

                He stopped, even when nothing else could get him to. Because it was her. He froze, like his own ice had turned against him. He looked and he saw her, where everyone else was a blur of enemies in violet and violence. For a moment, the screaming stopped and his heart was still, and he heard her voice cut through where no one else's could. He stopped and he listened.

                He is listening now. She doesn't have to tell him what she told him then because she does just what she promised and takes his hand. She hears the sobs behind his screams and all she does is take his hand.

                The pain flares up again—the Medals say it's not over yet, but she says it is, so it is.

                Because it's her.

                The power burns away from him like smoke, and suddenly everything hurts, but that gaping emptiness in his heart is the worst kind of pain. But she tells him it's okay, that it'll all be okay, and maybe he's okay because she's holding him and promising. She's his salvation somehow, and even though he's barely made it without Ankh, he doesn't know what he'd do without her.

                That hole in his heart where the Medals are whispers, "Just hope you never have to find out."

 

~~~

 

                The Medals fall, Eiji falls, and then it's all up to her.

                She runs in before Ankh can and scrapes the Medals out of the soil, cradling them to her heart as he approaches.

                Their eyes meet, and he looks at her like a stranger. Except, no, she's seen the way he looks at strangers—suspicion or curiosity, his head cocked to the side. No, he wears her brother's face more expertly than he ever had, and now, she knows Ankh better than she knows Big Brother.

                He looks at her like an enemy, and her gaze slips for a moment before she returns the glare. How did they end up this way? Like the day he tried to strangle her, like the times he stalked her, like him a predator and her the prey. He forces her to make the choice she should never have had to make—him or Eiji, him or her brother.

                His hand burns with flame when she answers, but what does it matter anymore? He's made it clear how little their time together means to him, so why shouldn't she stand in the way of what he wants? He's told her he doesn't need her anymore, doesn't need them, doesn't _want_ them, so she's not letting him down by choosing them instead.

                She runs to Eiji and Goto after the battle and tells them to hang on. But through the trees, she sees Ankh, nursing his wounds all alone, and her heart betrays her. There's a look almost like pain in his eyes as he glowers at them, and beside her, Eiji is tense with fury.

                But as Ankh leaves, she still can't help but feel what's left of her heart break for the want of what they had before.

                "Don't," Goto warns before she can start to cry. "Don't waste it on him. He did this to himself, and he'll pay for it."

                She nods mutely, while Eiji remains silent as stone. There's no time to waste crying. He's bleeding through his bandages and clothes, and Goto's in even worse shape.

                They need her. She can't fall apart now.

                She goes with them as the Kougami Foundation takes them back to the lab. She quietly retrieves a new set of clothes for Eiji when  it becomes clear that Goto's going to need the spare tracksuit they've already found. At least there's always extra clothes back at the restaurant.

                She's in and out of Cous Coussier before Chiyoko notices, and it's a relief. It's been harder and harder to put in her hours at work lately. Eiji says he left because he was worried he might lose control of the purple Medals and that Chiyoko might realize what was happening to him, but she thinks the real reason is because it's just too much to take. The walls are echoing with every word they ever said to one another; the reflections of their smiles and scowls are in the glass. They are gone, but they are _there_ , the memories still as fresh as ever. There, they'll always be the way they were—something like family.

                There is a torn coat hiding in her closet at home—the remnants of her broken dream. There is an unopened gift behind some books on her shelf, hidden away from her brother's sight for the short time he was back.

                How did it end up this way? That she has to hide her hopes and dreams because the tragedy is too great, that she has to bear with it and stay strong because others are hurting worse than her? Suddenly, she has to be strong enough to hold them all together.

                She's the compassion Eiji and Ankh have set aside. She is the hand reaching out, but she doesn't know if she can reach them.

                She has to. Somehow. Because the alternative is accepting the truth that haunts her like a ghost—that they each are only strong enough to break one another's heart.

                She has to hold onto them, even when they don't want her to.

                So she saves her tears, not because Ankh deserves them, not because Eiji deserves them, but because they need her to be strong. They need her to hold on.

                Even if she feels like her grip is slipping.

 

~~~

 

                His dreams aren't just of Africa anymore. Now, Hina stands in the rubble too, her eyes begging him to save her.

                He wakes up in a cold sweat before the rockets hit, knowing there's no way he can reach her. After all, how can he save her if he can't save himself?

                She's the only one holding him together. If he loses her too, then what will be left of him?

                He can't even sleep anymore, not that he gets much of a chance anyway. He's living battle to battle, barely resting in the lab while Goto reviews their losses and Hina tries to coax him to eat whatever meals she's brought from Cous Coussier or home, and he can't taste any of it, so what's the point anymore?

                But she smiles hesitantly and softly, admits she tried something new, since his sense of smell is fine, so she added some garlic and onions to the meat, so is that a little better?

                And he'll smile and nod even though he's lying and he honestly can't tell the difference between that and the strong coffee he and Goto have been going through one pot at a time.

                But it eases her worry for a minute, and he can live with himself with a lie or two.

                Living without her won't be living at all.

                It comes every time he closes his eyes—something happens to her, anything happens to her, and the void consumes him, changes him completely, and he's gone. And it's so damn _selfish_ that he hates himself for it. It should be pain enough that she's hurt, that something happens to her, his friend, another human being. But no, the nightmares creeping behind him insist that it's himself he's scared for, not her.

                (He is scared. But when she's there, he can pretend he isn't. Because he has to be strong for her, because she's lost so much and doesn't deserve what keeps coming for her.)

                (And sometimes, when he thinks he's fooled her into thinking he's not afraid, he manages to fool himself too.)

                What's worse, though, and he has to admit it silently when he lies awake in the dark, between Goto screaming at him to listen to Hina's advice and the knowledge that tomorrow will bring another fight with a completely revived Greeed, is that if it happens and Hina's there...

                He dreams of her reaching for his now unrecognizable face, and there are tears in her eyes. And they would be in his too if his new body would let him cry.

                (Or he's so far gone that he no longer recognizes her either.)

                It's there again after his transformation into a Greeed, and the details fill themselves in, in a way they couldn't before. Leathery hide, fingers more like claws, so he can't reach out on his own. His face more like a skull, the bone bleached white, his only eye blurring everything so even if he were in his right mind, he wouldn't be able to see her face anyway.

                And he cannot cry. But he knows she will for the both of them. Because that's what she's done for him all this time, and he can't forgive himself for making her carry that burden.

                She isn't there when he wakes up. She's likely at Cous Coussier, hoping and praying that he holds himself together a little bit longer and gets rid of those Medals for good.

                There is no abyss for them to cling to anymore, but now he needs them, and he's falling off the edge into another direction, with no one around to pull him out of his own darkness, or of the desire he's suddenly found again, overpowering and consuming.

                What, then, if no one can talk him out of it and make him see what he might become?

                What does it matter if he can't save anyone? He'll gladly plunge into his own damnation just to keep another person from dying, and if it means Hina can smile again without a ghost of sadness in her eyes.

                It's good, then, that she isn't there to pull him out of it. So that she doesn't have to see what becomes of him.

                And if it happens, if Hina can no longer talk him down the way she always has, if he loses control again and loses sight of his friends and enemies, if he suddenly sees her the same warped way he starts to see everyone else...

                He lets himself become a monster, a vessel, a king. Everything he never should be, what she never wanted him to be.

                He will never forgive himself.

 

~~~

 

                In the end, it could only be Hina. She's the only one who'd forgive him, even after he's said and done the unforgivable. She believes in him when she shouldn't, and it makes him laugh when she asks if he's dying.

                Dying. Does that mean he's living? Is that all that he can define life as, a progression toward death?

                (Or that people will love and mourn him when he disappears?)

                (Maki can say whatever he wants. Ankh will take this for what it is.)

                She follows at his heels, watching every step with worry.

                "I'm not going to die right here," he says.

                He hears her hesitate, and once, he would have reveled in her discomfort. Now, it hurts, like that growing crack in his Core. Is that what she feels right now—what she's felt all this time?

                "How..." she starts, and her voice is wavering for a moment before she stops and tries again. "How can we stop it? Your Core from breaking, I mean?"

                That hope. That stupid hope in him, the belief that he's better than he knows he is.

                "You can't," he answers, but his voice isn't as blunt as it used to be. Is this what dying does to you? Softens all of the hard edges? Where once he would have raged against this, now, he only feels...content. If he did die right here, with just Hina to mourn him, then maybe it would...

                No. It wouldn't be enough. It could never be enough. He is a Greeed and he will always want more.

                If only they were strong enough, if only there were enough time, if only, _if only_ it were enough... But it's not just him who wants more. She wants more, and he can feel it in his broken Core—not one, but three people to hold close, to keep as her own. To wipe away the past and restore what they've lost—what he's destroyed.

                How the hell did they end up this way?

                And they can never have it, and it's an ache worse than the crack, worse than the three lost Cores, worse than everything he has ever known.

                But he stumbles again, and she rushes to help him, and her touch is gentler than it's ever been and her eyes are full of sorrow, not pity, and maybe, just maybe, it's _enough_.

 

~~~

 

                She's holding them together.

                Or trying to, at least. When Eiji looks back and sees her face, he sees that she's breaking, sees that Ankh's breaking, and knows that he himself is breaking. But as long as she holds them together, they're strong.

                He forgets how long it is before they all finally let go, but if he can tell the time by the drips of melted ice on his hand, then it's long enough. No, not quite enough, but long.

                It's Hina's ice pop that's melting all over him—his only drips on his shoe—but when she realizes what she's done, she cries, "Eiji, I'm sorry!"

                "It's okay," he insists with a smile that hurts because it's so true. "I don't mind."

                "I'll get a napkin," she promises. "Wait here."

                He isn't going anywhere, not yet. But tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, he'll be changed, forever. He can feel it in his...

                He can feel it in his Cores. And because he doesn't know if he can feel his heart there anymore (because he knows he's not bleeding, even after that beating Ankh gave him earlier), he knows there isn't much left keeping him human anymore. And it's just so easy to let go...

                There's a brief twinge in his hand, and he looks down in panic. But no, it's still human, and he hasn't even lost his grip on his ice cream. It's just another sense he's beginning to lose.

                When he looks back up, he realizes Ankh noticed and is watching him with concern. So he just offers what's left of his ice pop and asks, "Do you want the rest? I know it's not a lot, but it's..."

                It's not worth it, if you can't taste it. And Eiji's tired of pretending because he's not even fooling himself. Ankh doesn't need to hear it, and he just silently takes the ice pop and eats it like there's nothing wrong.

                But everything's wrong. Tomorrow, Eiji won't be human anymore. It's not enough to let go of the purple Medals, he thinks, because if he changes before that point, nothing will change him back. And he still needs their power, _wants_ their power to stop the end of the world. All he can do is hope that the emptiness he's filled with desire will be enough to hold them back, but even then, it might still  be too late. Not if he's losing his vision and sense of touch too.

                He can't do this to Hina, though. Not after everything she's—they've—been through. Not after she did so much to keep him human.

                "Ankh?" he asks quietly. "If..."

                For a moment, he almost loses his nerve, but he sees Hina returning with the napkins, and he quickly asks, "If I become a Greeed again, permanently, will you stay with Hina?"

                Ankh tries to keep his tone disinterested, but there's concern all over his face as he asks, "Huh?"

                "I can't stay, if that happens," Eiji insists. "Hina doesn't deserve to go through that. And I know you said you'd give back Shingo, but it'll still be hard. Do you think you could stay with her for a little bit, just to make it easier?"

                Ankh doesn't answer, only stares at him. It's too late anyway; Hina arrives and takes Eiji's hand and starts wiping away the juice.

                "Sorry that took so long," she apologizes. "I wanted to get it wet so you wouldn't be so sticky."

                It's those small kindnesses he'll miss the most, he realizes. The little things that make him feel human, make him feel like it's not a matter of pretending, but he still is.

                His fingers curl around hers in gratitude, and it says how they've ended up this way that she doesn't look at him in surprise, only returns the favor as he prays that his senses will remain just a little longer.

                Because if that's the last thing he ever feels, her hand holding his, then maybe all of this will be worth it.

 

~~~

 

                Ankh needs her, if only to say goodbye.

                It's not easy, splitting his consciousness this way between the two halves of his Core, and he needs to put the most of it into saving Eiji, but he can't let go without seeing her one last time.

                He takes on the form he knows is the most comfortable for her to see, the humanoid shadow of her brother. It used to be that he used this body to torment her, but over time, the both of them seemed to like it more. The way things feel smoother around the edges, the way certain sights and sounds seem clearer.

                It's like everything he ever wanted is everything he always complained about, and he doesn't know how it ended up this way, but he thinks maybe it's okay.

                They're here together, face-to-face, and though he can't say anything, it's okay. He doesn't need to ask her for anything that'll break her heart; he doesn't need her to be strong.

                There's nothing they need to say.

                She gave him a gift once, and what's left of him regrets he never got to see what was inside. But maybe he doesn't need to—he sees what's inside her heart, and it's a better gift than any of the birthdays he never had could ever have given him.

                He's out of time, but he leaves her with a gift—the only one a Greeed could ever give, one that would mean more than words can say.

                He doesn't hear her "Thank you," as she cradles the half of his Core but he'd know it was more of what she needed than him.

                It's more than he could ever want, anyway.

 

~~~

 

                There's a torn coat in her closet and an unopened gift on her shelf.

                The day Eiji leaves with both halves of Ankh's Core, Hina removes the both of them and stares for a long time.

                Then she takes out her pen and paper and gets to work.

                She puts in an application to Mr. Sawaguchi's atelier, then goes to her coat. Her goal is to fix it before she gets accepted, if she gets accepted, and at least prove to herself that she can do it again.

                Shoko and Chiyoko both offered to repair the outfit for her, but she turned them down. It's not up to other people to rebuild her dreams—she has to do it herself.

                (And Eiji? Eiji smiles at her as he takes both halves of the Medal.

                "I'll figure out how to restore his Medal, and you try to fix that. We'll see who gets through it the fastest, okay?"

                She smiles and shakes his hand, and it's a deal.)

                The edges are frayed, so she cuts them off and evens everything out. But this means that the patterns will no longer line up properly, but if Eiji believes he can repair a broken Medal neither of them fully understand, then she can figure out how to repair her coat.

                What's important is the bond, and she takes black lace and measures it out against the tear before cutting. It's delicate stuff, and it's difficult to get it just right, and every time she tries to pin it, it doesn't line up properly for her to sew.

                She gets frustrated almost to the point of tears, but she refuses to cry—not because anyone's depending on her now, but because nothing is. Because this time, she can walk away for a bit and take a chance to calm down.

                It's been a long time since she's had to think about only herself.

                But it's not only herself, not really. Everyone's on her side this time. Big Brother comforts her when she messes up and helps pick up more lace and finer thread when she ruins what she already has. Chiyoko lets her stay late in at the restaurant, where there's more room to work on it, and makes sure she eats regularly.

                Eiji sends a postcard once every two weeks, from wherever he is. Phone calls are too expensive sometimes, and not always reliable, but when he can call, he does, and he sends photos from his travels. Sunsets in South Africa, auroras from Russia, a view from an active volcano in the Philippines that makes her heart skip a beat as she sends him a text, warning him to be more careful and avoid dangerous places.

                (He apologizes with a selfie taken in Vietnam, next to a flock of endangered green peacocks. He makes sure the photos are good enough that she can get a view of their tail feathers spread low against the ground—possible ideas for a new outfit, he suggests. It would make another good design, she admits, and she practices drawing the feathers in her design book and how they'd look, trailing across the floor behind the model. But that won't get done today.

                It's a tomorrow, though, and Eiji's not the only one who's missed dreaming of tomorrows.)

                It'll take a lot of work to fix her coat, but it's worth it. She can hold herself together, and she's cried enough that it takes a lot more than this to bring her to tears anymore.

                (She gets to see Ankh again. It's only for a little bit, and she wishes it were enough. But he's from one of their tomorrows, and they have to make it come for him to come home. And that's okay. That's enough.)

                The first side of the coat holds to the lace, stays strong and refuses to tear.

                It's only one step, but she's rebuilding her dream in seams, stitch by stitch. (And if she beats Eiji, then it's fine—it's nothing they have to win, and no one's counting on either of them to finish first.)

                She'll be leaving for France in the summer, after graduation, for a three-month internship.

                (Eiji calls from India, ecstatic about a recent discovery and how it might be just what he's looking for.)

                (Ankh waits, within the broken Medal and whole in the future, and she knows will see him again before long.)

                There's no one she'll be letting down other than herself, and that's the reason she keeps going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The overall flow and rhythm of this chapter was inspired by the _Hamilton_ soundtrack, specifically "Burn" and "It's Quiet Uptown."


	3. Chapter 3

                Eiji needs time alone to think. There's too much going on, too many platitudes and reassurances, too many missed calls trying to ask him if he's okay, too much keeping him from breathing when he sees it all over again in his mind and thinks about what he almost did. He needs somewhere remote to get away.

                Zavkhan aimag, Mongolia, is about as remote as he can get.

                His hosts are older, old enough that they'd lived in Soviet Mongolia and still know their Russian. Eiji speaks very little, which makes it hard for him to communicate, but as long as he helps out enough with the livestock and keeps their ger clean, they let him stay.

                "It's too cold, anyway, to let you stay out in a tent," Enkhtuyaa says slowly, as Eiji struggles to understand. She's warm and motherly, and from what he can understand, she misses their son, who left for Ulaanbaatar a year ago.

                Her husband, Nergüi, is gruffer and hasn't forgiven their boy yet. Eiji doesn't make things easier on him, for all he tries to pick up the slack around the ger.

                But he tolerates him, and when Eiji picks up his underwear and starts to leave, he asks, "Are you going already?"

                It takes a moment for Eiji to figure out how to answer, "Just going on a walk."

                "You shouldn't go alone," Nergüi replies. "It gets cold at night."

                But Eiji smiles and insists, "I'll be back soon."

                Nergüi says something he doesn't understand, likely a complaint, before warning, "We won't save you any dinner." Eiji still nods and goes off. It's not that he thinks he knows better than them; he just needs time alone.

                Walking the mountainous paths gives him that time, with no one to bother him besides some animals. It's them alone, under the vast, blue sky. If there's one reason why he picked Mongolia, it's because the weather might be cold, but it's clear and beautiful, and it means that when he needs time to himself, he can just trek up the rocky ways and stare out in the quiet.

                It's not the blue he looks for, this time, but pink and purple and gold. The rosy colors are already beginning to stain the sky and land around him the farther he walks, chasing the sun in its descent. It takes him farther west, farther away from home, where he'll have to explain himself someday.

                He stops at the edge and removes Ankh's broken Medal, cradling it as the sun continues its march.

                "It's not..." he starts, his voice catching. "It's not that I thought I knew better."

                India was a disaster, and it was all his fault—would have been all his fault, if the researchers hadn't won out in the end. If Kougami hadn't sent over the fragments of the King's TaToBa Medals and a series of instructions well before Eiji arrived.

                Just like his predecessor, he'd wanted something so badly, he'd almost destroyed everything just to get it. With nothing to show for it.

                _She_ is there in his dreams again, only this time, her eyes are full of accusation. What specifically she's blaming him for, he doesn't know, but it doesn't matter because he blames himself for enough. He failed to save her. He failed to save Ankh. And somehow, the two are intertwined.

                He can't sleep anymore—he can catch a couple of naps, here and there, and he has ever since he left India. But he can't let himself let go and fall asleep because _she_ will be there, and so will Ankh, and he doesn't have words enough to tell them he's sorry, that he would gladly die in their place.

                The sky burns now, orange and gold flames shining through the pink and blue. His breath catches for a moment, but he can tell himself it's only because this might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

                (Wings in red, yellow, and green, even in human form, and they're the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.)

                (Bubbles in red, yellow, and green, and he chokes as he backs away, and it's the most awful thing he's ever seen.)

                He forces himself not to think about that right now, fingering the edges of the Medal halves. He isn't sure about much anymore, but there's one thing he is.

                "You'd love this."

                He holds Ankh tight as he smiles into the sunset. He doesn't notice the rocks slip out from underneath him.

                He falls, but he doesn't let go.

 

~~~

 

                Hina leaves for France in a week. She should be packing, but she can hear Big Brother talking on the phone in the living room, and she can't help but stop.

                "Are you sure? What if he's not ready?" A pause, then a grim, "I see. That does change things. I'll let you know if Hina and I hear anything first."

                Hina glances over at her phone. No call, as usual. Eiji hasn't called since he left for India. When he disappeared after, with the barest bones of a note to explain why, it was up to the Kougami Foundation to explain to everyone what had gone wrong.

                It's not as horribly wrong as he thinks it is. If he'd only come home, he'd see.

                Big Brother sees her watching the phone as soon as he walks in the room. She can't help but ask, "Are they going after him now?" He nods solemnly. "But why? I thought his letter said he needed time."

                "That was April," Big Brother explains quietly. "It's May now. And his parents are furious."

                She lowers her head. It's been over a month without contact—they had no choice but to tell Eiji's parents. And family or not, they don't understand him, and they don't like excuses. To them, Eiji will always be irresponsible and unreliable, always trotting off to one country or another, never settling down, never making them proud.

                They don't know anything about him, and the fact that they had to get them involved at all hurts, since Hina knows it'll break Eiji's heart when his parents carry him away again.

                "We do know one thing," Big Brother continues. "He crossed the border into Mongolia two weeks ago."

                "But knowing him, he could be on the other side of the country by now," she says. "How do they expect to find him?"

                Big Brother looks down in shame, and that's enough to make her angry with Eiji's parents on his behalf. "They've given permission to track his phone's GPS. There'll be candroids spread all over Mongolia to find him."

                It's as bad as she fears, and she argues, "But he's an adult! They don't have any right to..."

                "They said that he left when he was still a child," he sighs. "And if he's going to keep acting like a child, then they may as well treat him like one."

                They're going to make Eiji come back home—not to his home at Cous Coussier, but to his parents' home. Set rules that he can't follow, expectations he can never meet. Make him into the kind of person he isn't, just because they can't accept the person he is.

                "What can we do?" she asks.

                Here's the one bit of comfort she has, when Big Brother smiles slightly and admits, "Well, if I know Chiyoko, she's definitely not going to stand for this." And now, she has to smile and shake her head. "So if we can provide a stable place for Eiji to stay for a little while, then it might get them to back down a little. The problem is..."

                "Eiji has to want to come home," she answers. And as much as Eiji would rather stay with his friends than his family, she has no doubt that he'll find a million ways to keep hidden if he wants to, beginning with destroying his only connection to them. He's traveling the world to find a way to bring back Ankh—if he wants something bad enough, nothing on earth will stop him.

                And if it's something he _doesn't_ want...

                "I'm going to try to call him again," she decides, taking a breath before picking up the phone.

                Big Brother nods and wishes her luck before leaving. It might not do anything, but even a message, something to let him know what's going on.

                He's got coverage, but he doesn't answer. She hears the beep and...

                And there are words she could say that would bring him home for good. They are the words that all three of them—her, him, Ankh—were cowards and couldn't say. But she's not a coward now. If she says those words, then he'll never leave again.

                But if she says them now, will he understand them? Will it be enough? And if he can't, will it hold his heart in a cage worse than the gilded one his parents want to confine him to?

                She is not a coward. But the words are not right, not right now. Not until all three of them are there and they can finally say them together.

                She settles on the next best thing.

                "Come home, Eiji. I miss you."

                And that's all that really needs to be said.

 

~~~

 

                He half-slides, half-tumbles down the side of the mountain, and he knows by the way he's landed and the sharp pain in his left leg that he's broken something. It's the same leg Kazari stepped on way back when, when Ankh threw him into the river and he was on antibiotics for a week because of the infection. But it hurts worse this time. It takes a few minutes before he can do anything more than curl up in on himself in pain, and it's then that  he starts to feel the rest of it—his arms are bleeding, his back is as sore as it's ever been, and as a whole, he feels like he took on a Yummy without the OOO belt.

                It's not there with him. He left it with the Foundation, after...

                He has to try to move. He has to try to get out of there, no matter how much it hurts. He uncurls himself and leans heavily on the pole he's hung his underwear on, but he can't put any weight on his left. It makes it impossible for him to climb back up, and all he can manage is to plant his underwear in the rock above him before he slides back down.

                It's as he turns around that his second problem hits him—it's cold.

                Now that the sun's gone down, the temperature is dropping faster than he'd expected, and as warm as his clothes were earlier, he's shivering more violently the darker it gets. Nergüi was right—he shouldn't have gone out that close to nightfall. But Eiji thought he knew better.

                He thought he knew better. And if he'd won out, it would have been Ankh's Medal that dissolved, not the fragments of the King's TaToBa.

                The chemicals bubbled and turned red, yellow, and green as the fragments disintegrated, and he backed away, choking on his own horror.

                He pushes the memory away and pulls out his phone. The screen's cracked, but he still has service, and there's a message in his voicemail already waiting for him. He'll have to check it later. Right now, he needs to save his own life.

                He starts going through his list of contacts, all of the Kougami Foundation branches throughout Asia. There's nothing in Mongolia, and the closest one in Siberia is too far north to reach him in time. He calls it anyway, struggles through his hopeless Russian, and has to wait on hold, clutching Ankh's Medal halves in his bleeding hand. But the secretary is unhelpful, insisting that their search and rescue teams have already been deployed elsewhere, and if he needs help urgently, he should call local emergency services.

                She hangs up brusquely, before he can stammer out an explanation that he doesn't know the local emergency contacts, and all he can wonder is if the Foundation intentionally hires the most disinterested and unreliable secretaries. But he tries again—half a dozen Chinese branches, and he tries to get the dialect right for every one, but none of them are close enough and everyone is busy. The rock he's stuck on in Zavkhan is as remote as he can get.

                So he has to figure it out himself, and if he's going to survive the cold, he needs a fire. There's grass around, but not a lot of wood, so he'll have to sacrifice his pole.

                He puts his weight on his right leg as he tries to get up, tries to climb just a little bit to reach the underwear waving like a flag above him.

                His left gives out and he falls once more, falling backwards as he lands, nearly sliding down the mountain again.

                Something flies out of his hand, and he instinctively cries, "No!" and turns around before he can process what he's done.

                Half of Ankh's Medal has fallen off the edge, and there's no way he can retrieve it.

                Tears run down his face, and there is nothing he can do to stop them.

 

~~~

 

                There's a call on her phone, but it isn't Eiji. It's Satonaka's number, which right now, might be the next best thing.

                "Have you heard anything?" Hina asks breathlessly.

                "Can you put your brother on?" Satonaka asks, and Hina knows the answer is yes.

                She hands the phone to Big Brother and tries to read the expressions on his face as they change, and once again, she finds it harder to read him than it had been to read Ankh. He's too subtle—she knows the news must be bad, but his voice is even and his face several shades of neutral.

                When he hangs up, she hesitantly asks, "What did they find?"

                Now, he lets his tone get low, a deeply worried look on his face as he explains, "Someone called at least six Foundation branches throughout Asia, and they hung up on him every time."

                "Eiji?" she asks in dread.

                He nods. "Most likely. They didn't know who for sure, so they told him to try local numbers."

                "How could they?" she half-growls, crumpling her bedspread in fury. She understands why Satonaka told Big Brother instead; she would have broken the phone if she'd heard.

                Big Brother doesn't answer her question, instead insisting, "They at least have some tracking to go on, so they can focus the candroids in one area, instead of spreading out too far."

                "But what if it's not enough?" she asks as a horrible realization hits her. "Eiji doesn't ask for help." And by the expression Big Brother lets slip, she realizes he's forgotten—forgotten because Ankh knew so much better. "If he's calling for help, then it has to be bad."

                He returns her phone and promises, "I'm going to call Goto back, let him know to put a rush on it. Maybe the Foundation can recruit a few of the locals to help, if they have to."

                "What should I do?" she asks, refusing to let herself be helpless at a time like this.

                "If he calls you, stay on the phone," he insists. "Or call him. See if you can get him to stay on the line long enough to explain what happened to him. As much information as we can get to help him."

                "Okay," she answers, nodding as he leaves to help. It's not much she can do, but she has to do something. Eiji needs them, especially if he's finally admitting it to himself. He hasn't let anyone help him since...

                Since India.

                When he called from India, he said that they'd made a huge discovery. Thanks to his research, the Kougami Foundation had determined the elemental makeup of the Core Medals, and they were ready to recreate them in an experiment.

                It was advanced chemistry, way over her head and she suspected his too, because he admitted they weren't sure just which chemical compounds and in what amounts had been used, since the alchemists hadn't included that in their notes and they'd referred to everything with older terms that could mean anything.

                But he was so full of hope, and it was devastating when she learned what happened.

                The Foundation had recovered the fragments of the King's TaToBa Medals that Eiji's powers had shattered, and they sent them to India for the tests. If the Medals could be restored, then it meant the compounds were correct and they could be used to create new Medals.

                Or to repair Ankh's Medal, and Eiji begged them to let him try, so confident that his research was right and that this was what he'd been searching for all this time.

                The scientists were under strict orders to tell him no, and it was a good thing too. The chemicals were too corrosive, and the Medal fragments broke down. They tried to explain to him that it was okay, that this meant they had a better way to examine the chemical makeup, but he didn't hear a word.

                They took the colored liquids away for further study. Eiji locked himself in his room. No one could get him to come out for two days.

                On the third, they found a note, insisting he needed time and space to think. Implied was the plea for no one to come after him. No one's talked to him since.

                She tries to call him again, but she goes straight to voicemail. She hopes it means he's talking again, to someone, to anyone, so she gives him a more useful message.

                "Your parents are looking for you. We all are."

                She knows it'll worry him, that it might make him run again, so she tries another appeal, "Please. Mr. Kougami told us what happened. It's okay. It's not your fault. We'll find another way, I promise. Just come home." She's almost in tears, but she holds herself together long enough to plead, "We all love you, so please."

                She puts some distance in it—it's not just her, it's everyone. It won't hold him prisoner, but it might be enough to help him stay strong.

                "Come home."

 

~~~

 

                "Wake up. You're gonna die."

                The voice in his memories cuts through his momentary vision of _her_ face, and he takes a sharp, cold breath and opens his eyes.

                "Stay awake," he reminds himself. "Fall asleep, and you'll die."

                The hypothermia is getting to him, along with his exhaustion. He's curled up as much as he can with his leg the way it is, and it's helping him retain some heat, but it's not going to last till dawn.

                His phone is still in his hand, so he tries to figure out the emergency number, trying every three-number combination he can think of. He gets what he thinks is an ambulance on his third try, but just his luck, the operator doesn't speak Russian. He pleads for ten minutes before giving up and hanging up, not even bothering to wait for the operator to find someone who can translate.

                "It's my own fault," he admits, and it's true. Grandpa always told him to make sure he got the emergency numbers everywhere he went, and to be sure that he knew how to ask for help in any particular language. Mom told him to make sure he had the numbers for the embassies, for everything else he might need.

                He's forgotten every lesson he was taught, and he's going to die here on this rock because of it.

                His voicemail rings, and for a moment, he hopes it's one of the rescue teams, but his heart stops when he hears Hina's voice.

                "Come home, Eiji. I miss you."

                That's the first message, and it's hard enough except that she left another, just now.

                "Your parents are looking for you. We all are."

                There's a pause, just long enough for him to consider his family and what they must be going through—an older sister and brother, both in city councils; his mother in the Diet; his father in the Ministry of Finance. He's the only one of them who didn't go into politics, the first since his grandfather, and he is a disgrace to them all.

                He tunes out the rest of the message until he hears Hina say, "It's not your fault," but he knows it is, so it only tears at his heart. She promises to find another way, but there's no other way—no way to bring back Ankh without the other half of that Medal, no way to get down off that mountain, no way anyone will come for him besides the vultures that will pick his bones clean in the morning.

                He is so cold.

                "We all love you," she says, "so please. Come home."

                "I can't," he whispers as he closes his eyes and fights the tears. "I'm sorry."

                He sees Ankh's hand floating ahead of him, so close and yet so far out of reach. He can't reach, because if he does, he'll drop the Medal, and everything will be lost. But then he remembers that he's already dropped half, and everything _is_ lost. He's failed Ankh like he's failed _her_ , and she waits beside the hand, watching.

                "Wake up," he hears again. "You're gonna die."

                He's more sluggish to wake up this time, and every breath of ice hurts. Everything hurts, and his skin is becoming paler by the second.

                But his phone is still warm from so much use, and he cups it in his hands as he holds it close, curling in so his face will get some of the heat.

                He plays the messages again, just to hear Hina's voice. To hope she can be his salvation, just for a little while longer.

                "It's  not your fault," she says again. "We'll find another way, I promise."

                _She_ still stands beside Ankh, but she starts to walk closer. He's terrified, for some reason he can't explain, but he knows if _she_ touches him, then he'll feel cold like he's never felt, and it will be enough to break him.

                "I'm sorry I broke you," he whispers to Ankh's hand. To _her_ , to them both, "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

                Ankh says, "Wake up," and Eiji does, if only to replay the messages again.

                Hina stands between him and them, and for once, he's not sure she's strong enough. Because he's not strong enough.

                "Come home," she pleads, at the same time _she_ pleads, and at the same time his parents plead.

                And Ankh says, "Wake up," and Eiji plays it again.

 

~~~

 

                She has to stop calling. Big Brother says they're probably draining Eiji's battery, and they need his GPS active.

                It's the hardest message she has to leave when she ends with, "I have to go now. Just keep your phone on, and as soon as we find you, I'll call back, okay? I'll be waiting here the whole time."

                She chokes at "Goodbye," and has to take a moment to calm down, hoping these won't be her last words to him.

                How anyone expects to sleep during all of this is beyond her, but she lowers her head onto the pillow and closes her eyes for a bit, if only just to stop herself from crying.

                Even so, she knows it's not a dream when she lifts her head to see Ankh standing next to her.

                It's just like the last time they saw each other—or, at least, when she found half of his Core Medal after it had broken. He hasn't changed from the vision burned into her memory—human, hair swept to the side, red right sleeve—everything about him looks exactly the same.

                Except that the expression on his face is urgent, and he's looking at her like he has no time left to waste.

                When she sits up, he vanishes, and half of a Core Medal lands in her hands, and she knows she has to find Eiji _now._

                Big Brother is still waiting by the phone when she comes out, insisting, "You have to take me to the Foundation now."

                He thinks she's been dreaming, and his voice is gentle when he argues, "Hina, it's the middle of the night. When they find him..."

                She shakes her head and holds out the Medal half, and his face goes white as he stops arguing.

                "Get a jacket," he says as he goes for his keys.

                There's no time to change, and she's relieved he understand that. She covers up her nightgown as much as she can before they get into the car and holds onto the Medal carefully.

                Ankh is with her the entire time, within her peripheral vision. He's still tense, but he's not urging her to go any faster. They need to hurry, but they don't need to rush—not yet. Eiji has some time.

                "That should be with Eiji," Big Brother says, giving a momentary glance at the Medal half. "Will it help find him?"

                She doesn't know, but beside her, Ankh doesn't change his expression. She doesn't know, but he will.

                She nods and closes her fingers around the half.

                The Foundation has set up command and control in one of the basements, and Satonaka is on the phone, arguing with someone in fluent Mandarin when they walk in. She pauses for a moment in surprise, signaling to Goto, who's taken over her station to help coordinate the search.

                "Hina, what are you doing here?" he asks.

                A stern man watching the monitors gives her a critical look as he asks, "Who is this?"

                Hina realizes suddenly that she recognizes the man—that Chiyoko lied to his face one day, so convincingly that Hina had run up to the attic in a blind panic only to find Eiji was indeed still there. A few steps away is a woman she doesn't know, her face unreadable but her lips pursed as she evaluates her. They couldn't behave any more differently from him, but there's no denying that they are Eiji's parents.

                "I'm sorry," Goto placates, bowing toward him before turning back to Hina. "We're doing everything I can. Right now, the best thing you can do is..."

                Big Brother knows better and knows that right now, they're only going to listen to another officer. So he answers for her, "The situation's changed."

                "You've heard from him?" Mrs. Hino asks.

                There's a very careful glance between Goto and Big Brother before he explains, "Hina's gotten something. But she's going to need to see the surveillance before she knows for sure."

                "What is it?" Mr. Hino demands. "Where is he?"

                He's the opposite of his son—impatient, expecting a clear answer just because he asks for one. But Hina's not as intimidated as she once would have been, and she calmly insists, "I'll know it when I see it."

                He's not willing to take that for an answer, but his wife takes his arm, and he calms down immediately. Hina suddenly knows where Eiji gets his penchant for influence.

                She watches Ankh as he watches the monitors beside her, reading his expression as he ignores the steppes and desert. But there are so many different mountains to look through, she doesn't know where to go.

                Ankh does, and he finally stares at one monitor, his eyes widening like he's just sensed a Yummy. The other half of his Medal is there, and so too is Eiji.

                "There," Hina insists, pointing at the monitor.

                One of the technicians cross-references the GPS signal and announces, "It's a match!"

                "That's near Tosontsengel," another explains. "It's too big a region to cover."

                Hina glances over at Ankh again. He's sure.

                "That one spot," she insists. "Just try."

                They're hesitant, but they don't argue, bringing the candroids closer, close enough that they can see a figure on horseback, leading a second horse.

                "Is that him?" Mr. Hino asks.

                Hina doesn't even need to look at Ankh to know. The build is all wrong, and why would he have two horses? "No, but I think he's looking for him."

                The candroid overtakes the man, and the troubled look on Ankh's face says that they're starting to go too far. Hina takes a chance to turn toward him for a moment, hoping he won't disappear, and he mouths something—as if it takes all of his strength to try to say it.

                "Down."

                "Go down," she insists. "Off the edge of the mountain."

                The candroid swoops down, doubling back the direction it had come. But Ankh looks more anxious, and every second it takes to find Eiji is a second too long. And she still doesn't know how they'll know it's Eiji when they find him.

                Give me a hint, she silently prays. Anything that can help us find him.

                But there's pain all over his face, and whatever he can feel from the other half of his Medal isn't good. It's up to her now.

                "What kind of candroids are you using?" she asks.

                "Batta, mounted on Taka and Ptera," Goto explains. "They've upgraded it for night vision."

                That's the problem, she realizes. All of the video is monochrome, and certain details don't show up in infrared.

                "Switch to light," she insists.

                "It won't be enough," the second technician tries to explain. "We're better off trying to read for a heat signature."

                "Do what she says," Mrs. Hino orders.

                The look she gives Hina is full of cautious trust, and Hina hopes it isn't wrongly placed. The footage becomes lower-resolution, the light doing all it can to brighten the darkness. It's not much, but there's one spot below that Ankh fixates on, and as Hina looks more closely, the light starts to catch the color—a hint of white that shouldn't be there, and bright purple.

                And just as she breathes, "Eiji," Ankh soundlessly screams for him and disappears.

                "Is that a signal flag?" someone asks, oblivious to the terror in Hina's eyes.

                No, it's his underwear, and she knows the pattern—an optical illusion of white birds against a purple background or purple birds against a white background, depending on the viewer. Goto and Big Brother realize it at the same time and instruct them to swoop down, and some feet below is a crumpled figure lying against the rocks.

                "It's him," Mr. Hino realizes. "How soon can the medics get there?"

                The terrain's too difficult, and Eiji's out of time, but Hina remembers the man with the horses and she insists, "Go back up! That man back there—he can get Eiji out!"

                "On it!" And the candroid swoops back up the mountain again, as Mrs. Hino turns toward her.

                "Thank you," she says.

                Hina nods back, but she knows it's not over. Not until Eiji is safe at home, and with the family he's made rather than the family he was born with. But _that_ will have to wait a little longer, at least until they get him safely off that mountain.

                She takes out her phone and dials one more time, not to talk, but just to help lead his rescuer to him.

 

~~~

 

                He can't open his eyes anymore—it's like they've frozen shut. But still, he sees Ankh across from him, and _her_ just inches away from his face.

                "Go away," he whispers, but she reaches out and touches his hand. Just like he thought, the cold cuts painfully through his skin and bone.

                "Stop," he begs, but she presses his finger down on the phone tile, and Hina's voice returns.

                "This is the last time I'm calling you," she says, and he can see her with tears in her eyes and he's so sorry. "Big Brother says I can't afford to use up your battery—we need your GPS to find you."

                "They're looking for you," Ankh says. "You have to stay awake."

                "I can't," he answers, his voice breaking like thin ice. "It's so cold."

                "I have to go now," Hina warns, and she begins to fade away. "Just keep your phone on, and as soon as we find you, I'll call back, okay? I'll be waiting here the whole time."

                "Don't go," he pleads, but she's disappearing, and _she_ is still holding him. "Don't leave me with her."

                "I'm still here," Ankh promises as Hina says, "Goodbye."

                He can barely breathe, but his shallow breaths skip as he lies there, _her_ hand frozen on his, and he can't feel his fingers anymore. He forgets how long ago it was that he stopped shivering, but his whole body has given into the cold.

                "Stay awake," Ankh insists. "Someone's coming for you."

                "My parents," he remembers vaguely. "They..."

                They're too far away. They're not coming. They wouldn't—not for a disappointment like him.

                "Keep talking," Ankh says, and something's got to be wrong because he never tells Eiji to talk—it's always shut up, idiot.

                Eiji almost laughs, but the frost cuts into his lungs, and he can only mumble, "Just like them. They don't think much of me either."

                Ankh is quiet for a moment, and Eiji can't tell why. It's too hard to read the emotions of a disembodied hand, at least when he's not aggravated.

                "Why?" he asks, like he's scared of the answer and only asked because he needs Eiji to talk.

                "Because I'm an accident," Eiji confesses, and if he thinks about it, that's the whole of his existence right there: an accident. Born when his parents hadn't planned on any more children, failed to live up to the family legacy, created mistake after mistake and dug his own grave in the middle of a road of good intentions.

                "What's this about?" Ankh challenges him. "You think you're not supposed to exist?"

                "I was a mistake," he tries to explain.

                "And what?" Ankh argues. "You think _he_ planned for me to exist? When he took away that tenth Core from me?"

                "It's not the same," he mumbles. The King didn't love Ankh, probably couldn't love anything because he was never satisfied. Eiji's parents, on the other hand...it's not that they didn't love him. They gave him everything he could ever want—maybe if only to make it up to him for even existing.

                "That's not love," Ankh insists, as if he's read Eiji's mind.

                Eiji doesn't answer, but he knows Ankh's right. Love throws itself in your way to stop you from hurting someone and promises to be there for you, bringing you back. Love stops an enemy from killing you and gives you its own power to stop you from destroying yourself.

                But it also doesn't get everyone you love killed or run away from them when you make a mistake.

                "Don't worry about that," Ankh argues.

                "I'm sorry," Eiji cries. "I broke your Medal."

                "It wasn't you," and Ankh sounds aggravated now. "It was cracked before I gave it to you."

                He doesn't remember if he knew that, going into the battle. It's all a blur now. It was after that Hina told him about the promise she'd made, but did he see the crack, or does he only imagine it now?

                Is he imagining the numbness where _she_ touched him, or is it the cold getting to him? Are they even there?

                _She_ stares at him as he struggles to breathe, and she's waiting for something. What? What does she want?

                "I'm sorry," he tells her, but it's not enough. She's still there, and he can feel her cold breath against his face.

                "It's not real," Ankh insists.

                Eiji hears him, but he doesn't make sense. If _she's_ not real, how is he?

                What does it matter? He's dying either way.

                "I wish..." he starts, and it takes a minute because his body just wants to stop. "I wish it had been you. That came out of there."

                _She_  looks curious, but Ankh is enraged, shouting, "What are you talking about?"

                "I wish...I hadn't messed everything up," he explains."I'm sorry."

                Now Ankh is right on top of him, but Eiji can't feel anything from him—no heat, nothing. He is on the edge of the void again, but this time, no one can pull him back out.

                "I made that choice," he insists. "If it meant you could live normally, then I'd give up my life—that's what you told me, to cherish life!"

                Eiji wants to smile, but he can't move.

                "You have to stay alive," Ankh argues. "Don't you _dare_ call yourself an accident and don't think that you shouldn't exist or that you should have died in our place. You're more than worth dying for—everyone is doing everything they can to save you! If you give up, what was my sacrifice for?"

                Eiji realizes what he's trying to say and breathes back, "I love you too."

                He's barely aware of Ankh screaming his name as he finally slips. They're still there, but they can't do anything for him anymore. It's silent, and he feels nothing—not because there's nothing to feel, but because he's past the point where he can anymore. It's been him and the void this whole time, and the void has finally won.

                And then he hears a muffled scream, and it takes a moment for him to realize it's his own voice.

                Something's wrong, but he's not sure what, but he's moving and something hurts and whatever he's being moved to isn't solid, and it _hurts_ the more he's moved. But he's eventually laid down on it, and it's soft and warm, and something heavy is placed over him and he's not sure he can breathe.

                "Ankh?" he calls out, afraid.

                He's not there—no one is, except that Eiji keeps hearing someone answering him in another language, and he's just too tired and cold to remember which one. That voice keeps him awake, keeps him alive, even if he can't do much more than cry out for those he couldn't reach, the ones who left and left him behind.

 

~~~

 

                It takes a couple of hours altogether for everything to work out, and Satonaka ushers Hina to a break room to put herself back together.

                The man with the horses, Nergüi, had been Eiji's host and had gone looking for him when he failed to return. He heard Eiji's phone ringing and saw the candroid team, then followed them down the mountain to where Eiji had fallen, his body huddled up to conserve heat and his hands basically frozen around his phone and the other half of Ankh's Core. He was unconscious and barely breathing, but when Nergüi turned him over, he started crying out in pain. It was enough to tell him that he had to risk getting Eiji onto one of the horses and cover him up with a blanket.

                He babbled the entire time, constantly calling out to someone, and nothing Nergüi said could reach him.

                The candroids rode along, transmitting their location to a rescue team composed of Siberian Foundation search-and-rescue ops and Mongolian medics who'd been unable to communicate with him when he tried to call for help. They're there now, Satonaka says, and they're taking good care of him. He's really not in any condition to talk.

                "I just want to tell him something fast," she asks, and Satonaka translates the request before handing over the phone.

                "Keep it quick," she insists. "He's still not completely lucid."

                Hina takes the phone, and she can overhear someone trying to explain what's going on, but she doesn't understand the language and she guesses Eiji doesn't either. So she takes the first step.

                "Eiji? It's me."

                His voice is tired and strained when he answers, "Hina?"

                "Yes," she says. "Are you okay?"

                He's crying; she can hear it when he says, "I'm sorry. I lost Ankh—I'm sorry."

                "Eiji, listen," she pleads, and she's crying too. "I have him. I have the other half of his Medal." She can hear him crying still, and she explains, "He sent it to me. He made sure it was safe—Eiji..."

                It takes a moment for her to realize he's crying out of relief.

                "I'm so sorry."

                "It's okay," she insists. "Everything's going to be okay."

                The medics give him another minute of her reassurances over the phone before they take it away, and Hina gives back Satonaka's with a tearful look of gratitude.

                There's a knock on the door, and Hina only takes a moment to dry her eyes before Satonaka opens the door and lets Eiji's parents inside. Mrs. Hino bows to her in gratitude, and she politely bows back, explaining, "I just talked to him. He's out of it right now, but he should be okay."

                "Thank you for everything," Mr. Hino replies. "We've called for a helicopter to take him to the airport in Ulaanbaatar tomorrow."

                "You're taking him?" Hina asks, and she knows it sounds accusatory and possessive, but Eiji's his own person and shouldn't just be taken away by anyone.

                "He can't take care of himself," he explains. "You've seen that, now." With a sigh, he confesses, "It's not really his fault, though. My father would drop every responsibility he had and take off, and Eiji grew up thinking that it was something to be proud of. So he does the same. He doesn't realize, no matter how much we've tried to teach him, that life isn't an endless vacation and that he needs to grow up."

                "He's still young," Mrs. Hino insists, placing a hand on her husband's arm. "He doesn't understand that the world isn't as easy as he'd like it to be, and he gets frustrated easily."

                They don't know him at all, and the thought of him having to go back to them is more horrible than Hina can stand.

                "Isn't there some other way?" she asks.

                Mr. Hino is affronted, but his wife has a look in her eyes that says she's more willing to compromise, as long as she mostly gets what she wants in the end.

                "What do you have in mind?" she asks.

                It's only half an idea, something Eiji might come up with under the same circumstances, but if she's confident enough in it, Hina knows she can pull it off.

                "My brother's a police officer," she says, knowing that it'll inspire trust in Eiji's father. "And there's room in our apartment—I'll be leaving for France in a week, so he'll be able to stay in my room."

                "And until then, he'll stay with us," Mrs. Hino agrees, before her husband has had a chance to catch on.

                "It's Eiji's choice, though," Hina insists. "If he wants to stay with either of us at all."

                She can see that Mr. Hino wants to argue, but Mrs. Hino smiles, either because she approves of Hina or because she feels like she's matched wits with an equal.

                "We'll let him know when he wakes up, then," she promises. "Thank you."

                She bows again, and Hina answers in kind. It won't be a perfect arrangement, but even if this is all she can do, then it's something Eiji can live with.

                And when they've both gone, she opens her hand to look at the Medal half.

                "Thank you," she tells Ankh, even if he's not there to hear it.

                There's more she wishes she could tell him, but she'll wait—wait until she sees him again and can tell him to his face.

                But she kisses the Medal half and hopes he knows somehow.

 

~~~

 

                The moment Nergüi gets Eiji back to the ger, Enkhtuyaa removes his bloodied clothes and covers him with blankets lightly warmed over the stove. They bandage his arms and elevate his leg until the medics arrive—he's broken both bones in his shin, so they set them and wrap up his leg in a cast—purple, because of the purple underwear that led everyone to him. They'll be sending him home—it's the only thing they can do; he can't very well wander the world on crutches, after all.

                He starts to understand that he hallucinated everything on the mountain— _she_ was never there, and her cold touch was simply the wind and his own pain from trying to move through hypothermia. Hina wasn't really there either—just her messages in his voicemail.

                It isn't until she calls him again that he wonders if maybe he didn't dream Ankh there, since she insists he gave her the other half of the Medal, the one Eiji lost.

                It's in the morning that a helicopter comes for him, staffed with his parents' people. Enkhtuyaa gives him another cup of warm horse milk and tells him to take care. Nergüi doesn't tell him anything at all, but he seems to approve of the idea of Eiji going back to his parents. Eiji only hopes that one day, Nergüi will forgive his own son.

                Out of gratitude, the Hinos will be sending a pair of horses to Nergüi and Enkhtuyaa—tall and beautiful stallions of some European breed Eiji doesn't know, but he does know they're going to be useless in the arid and cold climate. He also knows that Nergüi and Enkhtuyaa will probably just sell them to breeders and use the money to buy more goats.

                Not that he tells his father this, when he calls. It would be disrespectful, he knows. And beyond that, he's too shocked by the change in plans that he hears that he can't even think to mention it.

                He'll only be staying with his parents for a week, and that's if he wants to. Shingo will let him stay at his apartment while Hina's away.

                It's not as bad as he's been afraid it would be. And in any case, he's got a reason to go home.

                Hina waits at the airport with Eiji's parents, watching every new arrival. His last text said he was about to get his passport checked, and he would be there soon.

                She finally sees him, still bundled up despite the warm Tokyo spring, at the end of a large crowd of people. He's struggling with his crutches and waving off constant attempts by his attendants and the airport staff to get him in a wheelchair. But he only has to get a few feet farther before Hina runs up, takes his hand, and grabs him in a hug. For a minute, he can't breathe—she's hugging him too tightly, but he needs it and she needs it so much that he doesn't mind.

                Without coordinating it, they've placed the halves of Ankh's Medal back together, and for a moment, the world around them disappears and it's just the three of them—her and him, holding him together. It's just like before, and while there's so much they want to say, there's so little they need to until finally, they pull apart.

                And then Eiji realizes his father is talking to him, scolding him for not taking the wheelchair they rented for him, that he's still recovering and has to be careful.

                "I wanted to walk," he answers automatically, looking over to his parents for the first time in two years. They expect him to still be a child, to still need their help, and maybe some part of that is true, but he knows what he can do on his own.  "I wanted to get as far as I could myself."

                And Hina smiles, if only because she can see that he's grown enough that he can understand his limits—that it's enough if he can only go so far, then let someone else take his hand.

                And right now, he's tired and still chilled, and he won't let go of her hand.

                His mother plays diplomat and insists, "We'll all get something to eat first, and then you can rest at home. How does that sound?"

                She asks like he's allowed to argue. He knows better, but he looks at Hina, because in the end, she's his way out—if he can't take it anymore, if they try to forge a cage around him, she's got the key and no one can take it away. She stands between him and them, and if he needs her to, she'll protect him.

                The ghosts of his past cannot hurt him this time.

                "That sounds nice," she answers. "And later, if you want, I can come over. As long as your parents say it's okay."

                It's agreed, and if imperfect compromises are all they can get, it's something they can live with. His parents start to lead, and Eiji and Hina take their time following. She watches him carefully, knowing he probably does need the chair, but if he's really this determined to keep trying, nothing will stop him.

                And maybe it's time to give him back what he's been fighting for.

                "I guess..." she starts, holding out the other Medal half. "You should probably take this back."

                He stops and stares at it for a moment, and her. There's nothing stopping him from just reaching out and taking it, but that's wrong, isn't it? Imposing his desire on someone else? That's what got all of them into this mess in the first place—because someone, eight-hundred years ago, wanted something so badly that he hurt the only person who'd ever trusted him, and continued to hurt the people who had to pick up the pieces all these centuries later.

                He shakes his head. "Ankh gave it to you—it's what he wants. I was wrong, to try to take both of them."

                They'll figure out how to bring Ankh back, together. Not one of them has to be alone again.

                She feels his arms go around her again, and he lets her hold him for just a little bit—the weight of all those ghosts he's been carrying being shared and lessened.

                She barely hears the whisper of "I love you too," but she can see that for the first time in months, he looks like there's nothing haunting him.

                She takes his arm this time, and he doesn't need her to hold him together anymore, only to help hold him steady as they make their way out.


End file.
